Because it sure is surreal sometimes

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Saturday, August 11, 2012

Like most modern families, we were sitting around watching
Tosh.O recently, waiting for a teaching moment to come along. It was a short
wait. Our friend on the TV mentioned “spooning,” and Wonder Boy at the other
end of the couch, with all of 14.75 years under his belt, so to speak, spoke
up.

“What’s spooning?” he said tentatively.

“Snuggling,” said his dad.

I was impressed. He didn’t even try and pass that one to me.
I liked the confidence. Or maybe, he was just afraid of what I’d say….

“Oh,” my son said with a confused look on his face. “I
thought it was….”

I decided to step in at that point, as my son’s voice faded
away.

“Well, actually, it can lead to….” I said, voice trailing
off as I got The Look (head tilt, one eyebrow raised, nose pointed at the
floor) from my husband. I decided to adjust. “But, it can just be platonic also.” At this point, it’s all platonic for him, I believe, from a
practical standpoint, that is. Additionally, thanks to my word choice, he’d
probably think we were now talking about the lovable, long-eared dog from
Disney. Spooning is hugging your dog. We’re good to go now.

The next day, all of the usual things happened: my son used his
new vocabulary word in a sentence; it was both innocent and inappropriate; I
found it funny; my husband not so much; my son laughed hysterically but he
didn’t know why.

“I’m taking Jackson
to get that milkshake I owe him,” my husband said.

“Oh….my….god…..” I yelled as I gasped for breath, laughing,
snorting, and holding my ears to stop the bleeding.

14-year old boys.

It’s a bittersweet time of life. There is an end to 14-year
old boyness. It’s not adulthood. It’s not childhood. It’s the change of boy to
man; it’s running around and splashing in a pool with buddies, oblivious to
everything but the game they’re playing one second, and waiting impatiently for
the right girl to message them the next. It’s the mingling of boyhood, manhood,
and everything in between, which any mother or father of young men recognizes
as familiar. The duality of this stage of life can be appreciated by
mothers also, as well as fathers. While fathers were once living it, mothers, as
young women, were studying them. Carefully.

Many times this summer, my son could be found in our pool
with a couple of buddies. Eventually, they’d decide to spend the night. I always said
yes to these multi-person sleepovers. I liked knowing they were together, under
my roof, where I could revel in the remaining time I have to enjoy them enjoying
being home. I knew what to expect. After the pool, they’d disappear behind the
door to my son’s room, surfacing only for food and an occasional trip to the
bathroom.

They'd camp in front of the PS3, settled in for a
marathon that generally carried them into the pre-dawn hours. I’d find
them mid-morning, three across the bed, feet hanging off, controls slipped from
their hands, snoozing in a fog of morning breath. They’d be in their clothes
from the night before, or even still in their bathing suits.